Each hangar deck is divided into five one-hundred yard sections, each divided from the others by massive blast doors that close vertically from the floor and overhead. Each hangar section houses all of the Vipers, Raptors, and Predators that the wing operates as well as the vital work areas to support and maintain these fighting platforms. Each bay is large enough to accommodate one of these frames and still get heavy work done, though the fore- and aft-most sections are dedicated to overhauls and major work to be done. The bays along the center section are located across from launch tubes and elevators in order to provide scramble and Alert-Five capabilities. The second-to-aft bay provides major elevator and transport access to the starboard bay as well as the major manufacturing facility. Above each bay and within are a trio of small red firefighting balls that will explode on too much heat being exposed. Due to the nature of the work, the hangar decks are major hubs of activity at all hours of the day and all but four hours overnight.

07/07/2049

The point about an hour before the end of the shift, where people are starting to get tired and even the coffee (let's be generous and call it coffee) isn't cutting it, is the point where if mistakes are going to be made, they're made. Today is sadly one of those days where mistakes are going to be made, and there's a sort of DMZ formed around where McConnachie is working, where nobody wants to be too close in case they're pinged for the absolute, shitty, shiny mess of hydraulic fluid she's currently mopping up from around a point one would not usually expect a hydraulic fluid to leak.

Toby might not be back on friendly terms with the Chief, but he's out of the foghouse enough that he isn't immediately summoned to do all the cleaning himself. Having finished one task he's heading back to the office to swap the paperwork out for a new one as he passes by the slick. Keeping enough of a distance away that he's not actually going to get it all over his boots he eyes the expance for a moment, then slips the clipboard under his arm and polite-claps a couple of times. "How the frak d'you manage that one Mac?" he asks, sounding half amused, half impressed, "please tell me you didn't let Delaney help you, you know his record…"

"See, you see me cleaning and automatically assume it was me!" Mac protests, before cracking a wry grin. "Well, in this case it WAS me, but that's beside the point. So the thing is… there was a hole. Aha, thinks I, I'll whack a patch on it, bish bash bosh, all done and dusted and then time for coffee and a well earned foot spa. But, see, it turns out that this hole went straight into the hydraulics. And whacking a patch on, good plan by the way," she adds, lifting a finger to wave imperiously, "also had this unwanted side effect, in that it heated the trapped air in the line from where the rupture happened." She pauses, giving another perfunctory sweep of the mop to smear a runaway trickle back into submission. "Now even that would have been fine, too, except… EXCEPT… last one to take this bird out got more than one hole in her. Didn't spot the other end of the duct until it started pissing hydraulic fluid all over the whoring place, by which time…" She shrugs. "Well. You live and learn, eh?"

Toby shakes his head slowly as the explanation grows stage by stage. "Can't think why I thought that.." he says with mock thought, "can't think why at all. Anyway, from the sounds of it it was the pilots fault, more than one hole indeed, what do they think we are? Made of patches. Greedy fraker." He shakes his head slowly, pilots.. "You need me to grab you a fresh drip tray? I'm heading past stores." See, he's willing to help, not that he's going to get a mop from said stores mind, there are limits. "Does this mean there's an empty slot for a footspar though? … asking for a friend."

McConnachie arches one eyebrow, looking Toby over head to toe. "For a friend? You and I both know you don't have any friends… but yeah, I could stand a fresh drip tray if you've got a moment," she admits, shrugging resignedly. "And if you can nick one of those nappies from the fuel techs..? They soak it up a treat, they do." There's another long moment as she hoists the soggy mop end into a grubby bucket and squeezes it out. "I'll trade a spot in my foot spa for a pint next time we're shoreside, though..?"

"Ooowwww," Toby replies, faking a harsh wince, "you cut me Mac, cut me deep. What did I ever do to you?" Glancing towards stores he grins at her additional requisition request and notes, "I could just haul an entire SOPEP box over here for you, save time going back and forth for stuff." There is infact, one of the big yellow boxes nearby and he moves to drag it over. "Don't know what the pints are like downbelow yet," he says as he unlatches the lid and roots through fore what she needs, "heard there's a decent bar or two on Mother though, if required."

"Just don't bleed in the foot spa," Mac insists, offering a murmured thanks as Toby comes to the rescue by means of a box of suitable equipment. "What's the chances of getting over to Mother in the next couple of days, you reckon?" comes the query, as the spill finally gets the attention it deserves. "Every time I've thought I'd get off to go try her, I've been lumped with something or other. Somebody up there is just determined this is going to be a dry month for me."
Dropkick pages: Yes

"I've been doing this too long," Toby replies as he holds open the chest of treasures, "I don't bleed anymore, just slowly seep tylium and coffee." As for mother he shrugs, "don't see why you wouldn't be able to, she jumped back here with us, and shore leave is shore leave, take it downbelow or over there, doubt anyone really cares. Just make sure which shuttle raptor you get on." He tilts his head slightly though, looking at the mess, "well, assuming Chief doesn't see this and stick you on overtime that is."

"Every. Time." Mac insists with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "It's fate. Look, if you see her coming, distract her until I've got this out of the way, would you? I'm going to go nuts if I miss another shuttle ashore for some other stupid frakking reason."

"Oh ho ho, no," Toby replies, backing away slowly and waving his hands to indicate he wants none of it. "Don't you go getting me involved. I've got plans for this evening that do not involve hydraulic liquid in -any- way." Insert your own innuendo here.. "Besides, me and the Chief don't talk much these days, I start changing hat and she's going to get all suspicious. Not stupid that one."

McConnachie eases to her knees to begin gathering the various absorptive items back up, shaking her head and flashing a wide grin. "I never said anything about TALKING, did I? Shouting is more her style, anyway."

"Hey! Gilbert!" Toby calls out to a passing avionics tech, "Mac here says if the Chief comes by you have to shout at her as a distraction. You okay with that?" He gives the man a broad grin, and gets a particularly rude gesture back in return. "Splendid," he retorts back to Mac, "that's what you get for trusting avionics isn't it, always let you down."

McConnachie just laughs, piling sodden materials into a disposal sack from where she's kneeling from what looks like a spillage clearance. "Could be worse. Could be those SE guys. Bunch of dicks the lot of them. And then they expect a shot in your foot spa, too. High maintenance, see?"

"Yeah," Toby agrees casually, coming back to leaning on the big yellow case of clearance gear, "they're the fraking worst. Slack about, never do any heavy lifting, hammer the deck out? No, not them. Entitled wankers. Too good to get their hands properly dirty."

Fox steps through the main hatch from the battleship. He's got eager eye's that scan the ports. He walks the main path to the division where the Raptors rest. He stops and puts his hands on the rail to lean in as if that would give him a better look. He pulls a breath to steady himself from being overwhelmed by the mass of each ship. He may be in military flight regs, but he is sloppy with his jacket open and shirt untucked. His short hair is also messed up some. For an officer, he's a bit of a mess.

McConnachie straightens with a creak of aging bones, briefly waving her hands towards her front as though about to wipe them there, then thinks better of it and just shakes them in the air instead, as though that would actually help. "Appreciate the help, mind. If we learnt nothing else today, though, we learnt this. Never let a pilot take one of these birds out and get it shot up. Bloody hydraulics."

"I'll get right on to the CAG about that shall I?" Toby replies sounding amused, "Dear Colonel, kindly stop your idiots from damaging our beautiful babies, signed, the Knuckledraggers." He nods sagely, "sure that'll do the trick. If you want to escalate it to the Commander though then you'll have to do it yourself, we had an incident a while back, still trying not to corss his path unless I really have to, just in case." Fox is not yet spotted, but the pair are talking fairly openly.

Fox overhears the last part of McConnachie's statement and lets out a firm, "Hear hear!" Raising his fist to the air and back to the rail. He doesn't turn to look at the two as his eyes are upon the Raptors. He laughs at Toby's statement and adds, "I'll be sure to pass that request on." Still not looking at them, more admiring the ships.

McConnachie leans out to one side to peer around the fuselage of the current project and eye up whoever just shouted. "Ha!" she responds with an easy grin, brows waggling. "There, see, proposed and seconded. You know what they say. Stores are for storing! Something you needed, sir?"

Toby glances up to Fox, then back to Mac, "Did you invite the brass? WHat have I told you about inviting them? They'll start thinking they can just waltz down here whenever they want, and -talk- to us." He gives her a faux-admonishing look then turns back to Fox, "you flying Lieutenant? Roster is over by the deck office if you need to find your bird."

Fox cringes slightly at being called sir and turns to the two. He walks to where he can see them both without anything being in the way. He says, "I was just getting a look at the ship I'll be aboard later. I get the jitters before a mission, and no, I don't fly. I'm an ECO, back seat to the mission." He looks from one to the other with a half quirked smile. "I don't want those fly boys getting us shot at either." He gives a slight chuckle and bob of his head.

"Ew," Mac states flatly, expressionless as she can manage. "Don't you get your jitters all over the deck. I just cleaned."

"No jitters on deck Sir, it's against regs. Chief'll go spare," Toby confirms with a serious voice, then stage whispers to Mac, "pilot, eco, all the same in the end. They all get our babies shot at. Cute he thinks there's a difference though, don't you think?"

Fox looks at Toby with a laugh. "Don't let my bars hold you back any." His laughter grows. "It can't be easy keep the lines drawn between factions." His quirky smile grows. "I've seen how knuckledraggers and pilots like to think they are separate or different from each other, but I've always seen people as people. If we can have Lines with us, why do we need to treat each other differently. You keep the ships flying and there is always a mission to be flown. One for all and all for one, as it goes." He shrugs slightly, remembering he needs to write that down sometime along with another ditty he came up with a while back.

McConnachie glances back to Toby, both brows raised. "Whoa, mate, did you hear that? Honestly, GENUINELY… I think he just referred to you as a…" she drops to a stage whisper, one of awe and shock, "…as a PERSON! Have you been holding out on us and been a person all this time when we just thought you were a dickhead?"

Toby listens to Fox, brown frowning in apparently concern at what's said, then turns back to Mac. "Delusional. Clearly. No difference between us and them? Gold and green, flyboys and knuckledraggers… Dangerous talk that. Next thing you know we'll be wanting a -say- things, -giving- orders, I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. Make him stop Mac, before anarchy descends…"

Fox says through laughter, "How about I buy you both a drink at Mothers when this upcoming mission is over. I like to get to know the …" He holds his fingers up in quotations, " …PEOPLE who fix the sensor after the flyboys get em socked. My treat, seriously. What's your poison?" He offers in a mild tone.

"Now those are the sorts of orders I don't mind taking," Mac admits gleefully, absently wiping her hands down her sides. "Although in the interests of completeness I should mention that sensors are so far out of my area of expertise they might as well be another language. Not going to stop me taking up the offer of a beer, though."

"If you're thinking tonight," Toby replies up to Fox, "then I have prior plans. Give mine to Mac here though, she'll need it once she's done with this mess." Then, because why give up a good thing, he stage whispers to Mac, "be careful, I think he's trying to buy our affections. Might be some ploy to get us to be nice to him, and not leave dead fish in his bird."

Fox nods and starts to walk out, "Rain check it is." He says to Toby, then turns to Mac, "See you later tonight." He starts to whistle as he leaves, his tone is spot on and the tune echoes throughout the bay.